Until it isn't
by clevergirl36
Summary: "Would you have settled?" is no longer a hypothetical. By the time the Admiral settled planetside on New Caprica, everything has changed, and nothing has changed. How will the people, the city, and the relationships evolve when Zeus descends from Olympus?
1. Chapter 1

The crowd looked on at the grounded _Galactica _as one looks on at a beached whale; in awe of the magnificent creature, yet saddened by its lifeless body sunken deep into the damp sand. Space was her home, this worn battlestar, her birthplace and her purpose. But like the dying whale, she could not survive when the crewmates who kept her thrumming with life, the organs that sustained her, collapsed with inevitable exhaustion. The cylons weren't coming back, and the people needed a home with dirt under their feet, and blue above their heads.

:::::::

It had been three years and five months since the colonization of New Caprica, and five months two weeks since the colonials ousted their useless Commander in Chief, Gaius Baltar. The uprising was quiet yet seething, and surprisingly democratic. The people petitioned their booze-swilling minx-frakking leader to hold the next presidential election a year early (a proper term is four long years), having stood more than enough of their administration's incompetence. Vice President Tom Zarek had rested a solemn hand on his shoulder when Baltar unfurled the rolled parchment full of damning signatures, pleading him "Gaius- we cannot fight this. It's over." The whimper Baltar answered him with was mixed with fear, defeat and something even more telling- utter, unabashed relief.

:::::::

Laura Roslin felt healthier than she had in years. She'd smiled knowingly when the people pleaded her to run against Baltar in the hasty campaign they'd petitioned for, having waited three long years to be told, "You were right." Naturally, she ascended into office in a landslide victory. They had been wrong about Gaius Baltar, about New Caprica, and now they ran back to her faster than ever from their shanty, government-issued tents. She positively thrived back in the shoes of a school teacher and almost turned the people's plea down; but they were _her_ people, and she shouldered her ruck full of responsibility and bureaucrats and braved the campaign trail once again.

Now, as she readied herself before the landing of _Galactica, _she stood facing a vaguely familiar reflection in the mirror on the makeshift Colonial One: blue pencil skirt with a matching blazer, eggshell white blouse ruffling out the top, black pumps squarely rooted to the floor, colonial emblem pinned to her lapel. Just as in years earlier, she stood looking into the politician's eyes of President Roslin, schoolteacher no more.

:::::::

Admiral William Adama was soft at heart under his gruff exterior, and it pained him knowing so. It pained him when he admitted his people one by one down to the planet's surface, and it pained him to see his family break up before him. He knew they deserved it, deserved to start families and lives other than a demanding military career, and it pained him most of all to admit that he deserved it too.

The grounding of _Galactica _had been inevitable for months now. Her crew had grown weary of her, yearning for open fields, warm sun rays, and civilian life. As Adama let all but Helo Agathon trickle down to the sprawling tent city, he knew it was a matter of time before the Admiral himself would settle in a tent of his own. Now, as he stood on the muddy ground of New Caprica and squinted under the G-Class star looming low in the sky, he had the aching wish to return to the blackness of space. Like _Galactica, _The Void was his home, his calling, his silent partner.

His first realization after stepping off his ship was how much the Colony had changed since his last shore leave. Thick, adobe huts replaced the feeble tarps that once housed the remaining human race, and the sprawl began looking like a proper city rather than a band of nomads. Significant progress had been made under the second Roslin administration, and he smiled inwardly knowing this was her doing.

::::::

Her first thoughts as she patiently stood in front of the mass of colonists gathered around the metal behemoth were that her security detail looked positively giddy. The Marines flanked in a semicircle around the President shifted anxiously in their riot gear, elbow pads and Kevlar rustling in their wild anticipation. Zeus himself, their commander and admiral, had descended from the heavens to join the ranks of men, to protect New Caprica alongside them, not above them. They were very nearly being unprofessional, and she was very nearly approaching that line herself.

Bill's figure emerged from the Battlestar and she did everything in her power to restrain the urge to hug him. He looked well, the mustache he'd sported years earlier returned to his upper lip and his eyes were colored steely cobalt. His hair had run wild in the idleness of peacetime, and the thick gray waves were smoothed on either side. He looked fit, and his normal paunch was flattened after long hours in the gym of an empty Battlestar. The olive skin of his face showed that he was an old man in a fleet uniform, yet didn't look like one. To her, he looked like home.

::::::

When his hand met hers in a formal greeting between Admiral and President, he looked into the eyes of the woman he'd missed every day since her departure. They were shimmering jade eyes, full of kindness and cunning and so alive he could embrace her. The New Caprican sun had kissed her a hair a lighter shade of titian red, and she had let the golden-streaked tresses grow well past her shoulders. The crow's feet and lines that etched her face during times of illness had given way to crinkles in her skin when she smiled, which she must have been doing often. He shook her hand a bit longer than necessary, reveling in the feeling that everything was right in the world.

"Welcome home, Admiral." Her coy glance was not lost at him, and his own eyes mirrored the more intimate greeting from an old friend.

"Thank you, Madame President." Outwardly, they appeared as mere acquaintances.

It had been three years, four months since they last saw each other.


	2. Chapter 2

Bill Adama's small adobe hut could only be described as Spartan. As the sun (which the colonials had christened _Eos_ after the mythological Titan of the Dawn itself) languidly floated above the horizon, pools of light were splashed across a hardwood desk, stove, and austere bed. _Eos_ continued its journey farther up the sky, now fully illuminating the starkness that was the Admiral's cabin. Stark, except for one feature: _Eos _ignited a cascade of red hair splayed across the bed that seemed to belong to the Admiral's mattress itself, its owner so wrapped in Bill's quilt. The hair gleamed in the morning light as if on fire, copper flames twisting across the bed sheets. The wildfire stood in contrast to the owner of the hair, who lies neatly curled against the figure of a man. The man faced away from the woman and the woman does not mind, because the length of her body finds its way to stretch across the tanned muscles of his back. A pale arm hangs lazily on his side.

If a passerby were to look on this scene in the early morning of New Caprican life in the corner of a meager hut, he wouldn't see lovers clutching one another for dear life. He wouldn't see the hungry embrace of a new love, or even lusty, satisfied faces after a night of ecstasy. He would say he saw a married couple, so intimate with one another, so comfortable, that one gentle hand flung over one sleeping shoulder was all it took. He would point out the slight drool pooled around the woman's open mouth and listen to the wheezing sound of the man's light snoring. He wouldn't see perfection; he would see absolute, unapologetic contentment.

Laura woke up. Bill stirred.


	3. Chapter 3

_The Day Before…_

It wasn't vents blowing recycled air through the empty halls of a spaceship, it was real wind where hot met cold and created motion. It wasn't harsh fluorescent lights casting shadows across the deck; it was real sunlight warming the soil. It wasn't the vibrating engines of an exhausted battlestar; it was the hums of content emanating from Laura. The Admiral scanned the horizon once more before ducking into President's office on Colonial One.

Following the President's welcoming speech after she greeted the Admiral and his remaining crew, Bill and Laura stole away to her office. Her marine guards were left at the door.

"It's good to see you, Laura." Bill offered. He accepted the tumbler of amber liquid she procured from some hidden location aboard the government ship. He ransacked his mind for something to say to the woman he hasn't seen in three years. He came up empty.

She answered him with a touch to the arm, the slightest touch that brought waves of memories crashing forth in his mind. He recalled their stolen glances, their bantering back and forth…"_You're always welcome in one of my beds_." A shocked expression. "_So to speak." _ The innocent kiss they shared aboard this very ship, "_Never give up hope." _Bill Adama had been in love with Laura Roslin for a very long time.

The Admiral begrudgingly acknowledged that he was in love with Laura the week after she left his ship. Why did she insist on lingering in his thoughts longer than she should, even to the point where she practically took up residence in the corners of his brain? Objectively, she was a very beautiful woman, but beautiful women come and go as the day grows old. Yet it wasn't just a beautiful face, it was the personality lighting the sparks behind her eyes that peered into his memories. He would think of her hair, how, unlike politicians of the past whose camera-ready hair was hairsprayed into oblivion, Laura's would drape in untamed waves down her shoulders; how most days she feigned makeup and didn't care who noticed. She used her glasses to hide the expression betrayed by her eyes, and took them off when an icy stare was in order for the likes of Gaius Baltar. Her voice was low for that of a woman, and she could flex it into a harsh string of commands, or ease it to caress the ear with sultry velvet. Her cheekbones belonged to an era when everyone was cheerful and kind, and her mouth to a time when dictators ruled the worlds. She was a hell of a woman. A woman he cared for more than he could bear to admit. It was a long three years.

They drank and talked amidst an easy comfort that had settled itself around the room as Eos sunk farther down the horizon.

:::::

"I remember that! Starbuck came racing past me in the halls…I thought there was a fire until I saw Lee come just _barreling_ after to chase her…Kids." Laura mused how the sunlight hit the back of the glass tumblers, how as it exited the front it splashed patterns across the table. Their raucous laughter filled the emptiness of their time apart. She imagined she wouldn't mind feeling this way forever.

"Speaking of the old times, it seems the settlers have gotten quite used to their new homes down here."

"I think they have…and I think you will too Bill. It's not perfect, Gods, the amount of mud one can stand…but it's a chance to start over." The velvet caress slipped into her words, "A chance to lead whatever life you wish with whomever you wish."

Silence. There it was, all this chattering made for one long overdue Adama silence. She looked at the man in uniform in the seat across from her as he rested his elbows on his knees. He exuded confidence and authority; most people respected him without having spoken a word to him. His voice sounded like rocks sliding down a mountain made of gravel, and the craggy features of his face creased to form a hardened expression of wisdom. His blue eyes defied his Tauron heritage, as if to purposefully perplex the unlucky bastard caught in his stare. Yet none of these things had the slightest influence on how much Laura respected him. His mind was crazed with adrenalin and military power, and he still listened to her begging him not to fight, to save the human race after the holocaust. He did the right thing. He didn't believe in the Gods and had every right not to, yet he silently accepted her status as prophet. He meticulously placed the tiny wooden parts on his model naval ship, as if to ensure its integrity was just as great as his. He unfailingly eyed her legs the moment he thought she wasn't looking. The man was strength, warmth, and honor, and she loved him. She loved him for what he was, and what he made her when she was around him.

He finally spoke.

"I haven't let a day go by in these past three years…without thinking of you" he said.

The words simply tumbled out of his mouth; they rose in his throat and couldn't be held back any longer. Eos had given way to night and the artificial lights of the ship's cabin replaced the natural beauty and warmth of the planet's scenery. They may as well have been in the same place they were years ago, aimlessly afloat in dark space as far as the eye could tell. He felt trapped, what had started as a distant longing for his home the _Galactica,_ had now become the opposite: an urgent need to feel the fresh air of genuine atmosphere. He rose from the comfy leather chair, intending to say his goodbyes and wander over to the hut that had been reserved for him. He couldn't tell her how he felt, not like this. Not when he still felt adrift in the black void, in the cocoon of Admiralty keeping him from the outside world, from this woman.

When he stood to leave, she grabbed his arm, and he thought she might try to stop him. Instead, she arose along with him and slid her hand around his elbow to link her arm with his.

:::::

Bill was a man of few words; that, she knew. His words were carefully selected, filtered through his mind's various layers as he sat in silence opposite to her. She chastised herself inwardly…how could she still play games with him when this may be their last chance? I'm a grown woman, she thought, I should be able to tell the damn man how by "with whomever you wish" meant "with me there when you go to bed at night and me there when the sunlight creeps through the window to wake us." She was dancing with him again, dancing in a circular rhythm that always led back to the same stupid formalities, the same "Madam President" and "Admiral Adama" that clung to their lips when they were too afraid to cross the line.

"I haven't let a day go by in these past three years…without thinking of you."

Funny how he put into the words what she would have put into paragraphs. Of course it was that simple…_I missed you…I thought about you…it wasn't just idleness and boredom, I wanted to think about you. _Through the course of scraping together an education program and going through the motions of a campaign she wasn't even sure she wanted, she'd thought about him every day as well. _How is Bill doing up there, I wonder…this debate began without any laughing fits from me or Bill, how plain...Groundbreaking day, I should have kissed him. _

It was then that she made a decision, to leave the charade at the door. When he abruptly stood to leave, she rose as well and couldn't help but smile wistfully at his stoicism. He reluctantly allowed her to walk arm in arm to the door, just as properly as a president should.

"I'll show you to your hut, it's not far from here" she stated casually, not wanting to alarm him or the security marines nervously checking the premise, "and I won't be needing any escorts."

The lanky, tall marine standing nearest them was the first to object, "Um, Madam President? It really would be safer to let us take you and the Admiral, nighttime is the optimum hour for trouble." She had an argument laid out in her mind leading up to this objection, but his genuine concern got the best of her. "Of course, corporeal. Lead the way" were the only words she managed out.

::::

She hadn't lied; the hut wasn't a hundred feet from_ Colonial One. _It was sparsely decorated and fit with the mere essentials one needs to survive. He liked it. He'd welcomed Laura in, and the guards instinctively jumped to follow her. To his surprise, she immediately held up an open hand in their direction, explaining, "That won't be necessary gentlemen, if you'd kindly make your way back to the ship, you can expect me around noon tomorrow. If there be a dire emergency, you know where to find me." And with that, she waved her hand while the guards simply exchanged knowing glances and nodded. Their widening smirks could barely be contained.

He stood shocked for a bit, allowing the guards to leave their posts and Laura to turn and face him. Her face showed no signs of the deviant behavior she'd been up to lately, but her eyes contained a burning he hadn't yet placed. It was a mix of desire and welling tears, passion and joy swirling around the emerald green irises.

"Laura" he said breathlessly, before she cut him off and rested her hands on his shoulders.

"I haven't let a day go by these last three years, without thinking of you" she echoed his words into his ear, "and within those days not a doubt crossed my mind that I didn't love you and wish you were here to share this desolate rock with me." Her usual coyness returned to her voice, "Left the admiral speechless, have I?" Somewhere during her monologue, his left hand had buried itself into the auburn thickness of her hair.

He shook his head and chuckled; laughing at all the absurdities they'd been through and were likely to go through again. He grinned, "I'd just rather not be speaking at the moment, it distracts from doing what I've wanted to do to a certain woman I love for years."

And with that, he grasped the side of her waist possessively while capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss. That kiss contained a promise, and that promise was the deal that there would be no pretenses tonight; no President or Admiral, simply man and woman and their loving respect for one another.


	4. Chapter 4

He almost pulled back the instant he kissed her. It was reflexive the way he dealt with her- no affection, no hints that he cared for her more than friends do…and here he was pressing his rough lips against her soft ones. His body protested from the practiced control he used around her, but his mind only demanded this: stop talking, just do.

With his hand still deep in her long hair, he tilted his head to taste the ivory skin of her neck. His caresses sent gentle quakes down her body, and a series of soft moans escaped her mouth before she could hold them back. Gods she'd wanted this for a long time. Wanted his broad hands to trail down her waist and back up again when they'd slipped under the hem of her shirt. She wanted him to kiss her languidly yet urgently, like he couldn't get enough of her yet had all the time in the world. But he was doing all this things; he was really here and he was holding her so tightly she doubted he could let go even if he wanted to.

She slowly made work of his uniform buttons and the shiny brass gleamed in the dim lantern light of the cabin before falling aside on his lapel. She divested him of the jacket as if she were a surgeon delivering the first incision: carefully, precisely, and making sure to run her hands along his muscled shoulders as the uniform pooled on the ground. He mirrored her actions by unbuttoning the navy blazer she was eager to lose, and ridding her of the eggshell-white shirt she thought would go so well with her eyes. Soon, her bare breasts were pressing against the dark plane of his chest and there was nothing left to feel but the pure exhilaration of skin on skin. His lips reclaimed the base of her neck and made their way south of her collarbone in a trail of kisses until her reached her breasts. Her hands threaded themselves through his thick waves of hair as he softly nuzzled his mouth against the peaks of her nipples.

They say love pierces you suddenly like an archer's arrow, or the result of a stray spark igniting the fuels of passion and romance. Brilliant flames supposedly leap from the darkness and consume the love-stricken as they feel needed and wanted like never before. It's a wonderful high while it lasts, myths and poetry would have it. But as Bill finished undressing Laura with the ease and slowness of a craftsman at work and looked into her eyes like she was his greatest achievement, she laughed at the myths and stories she knew to be wrong. It was even better than that. Love was a deep friendship kindled by simmering embers. It wasn't a white-hot flash that overtook you, it sneaked in when you admitted that the respect you felt for the person was evolving into desire, and that desire had tangled inseparably with the companionship you felt with them. She wasn't on a high, because when he sat her down on the edge of his rickety bed it felt as natural to her as breathing. He was the most beautiful thing to her not just because he wanted her, but because of why he wanted her. Her mind, strong and independent as ever, captured him more than the slinky body of a blonde six ever could.

::::::

He leaned over to study her naked form before joining her on the bed. Her skin was flushed with a radiance that could shame the midnight moon, and behind her eyes he could see joyous laughter.

"This is long overdue" he said. He couldn't hide the dark inflection of arousal that laced his voice.

Before she could reply he had climbed over her and kissed her fervently. She kissed him back, and their bodies tangled together in a contrast study of pale and dark, man and woman. He asked permission with his eyes before entering her to which she responded by hastily guiding him in.

The Admiral had forgotten what actual lovemaking felt like. There were the one-night fraks in flight school with practically every hot fighter jock he would meet, and then there was loveless sex when his relationship with Carolanne still hung by threads. But he had forgotten what it was like when you knew every fault and flaw of the person beneath you, and didn't even care because you loved them. He had forgotten what it was for a woman so savvy and kind to love you even though you threw her in jail and called out her election fraud. He hadn't realized his thoughts of taking Laura Roslin against a bulkhead would ever become the slightest bit reality.

Their bodies fell into a steady rhythm with each other, one that was slow and steady and deep. It began as a passacaglia of rolling notes, Bill's hips playing a firm ostinato under Laura's variations. Their rhythm sang like a gods-damned lullaby, only the goal wasn't to put someone to sleep, but to celebrate the act of two people coming awake for the first time in ages. The tempo quickened with each thrust, and the breathy gasps that intertwined with the music grew haggard. The music evolved into polyphony, two melodies dancing in harmony with the other, eventually leading to a union of brazen sound. The key modulated when he shifted his weight to lie fully on top of her and the color became a darker, lustier tango rather than the sweeter serenade heard before. Laura's undulating movements and the way she grappled with Bill's back sent him into a maddening vivace. His pace hastened and the chorus rang through his ears in a bold fortissimo, demanded his attention and, eventually, sent him over the edge. He buried his head in the red flames of her hair to keep from crying out, and she cradled his shoulders while reaching her final crescendo as well. He had forgotten what it was like when two bodies hummed as one, and listened to the music course through their bodies in a symphony of beautiful waves.

::::::

When the music subsided and her breathing calmed, she dared to open her eyes. She found his quartz-like eyes glinting with the lantern glow beside them, and for a moment swore they softened under her scrutiny. He seemed genuinely happy, and he never broke his gaze as he rolled over and held her. She noticed that he didn't hold her like he owned her, but enveloped her protectively from the dark and dangerous he feared from the night. In some ways, the way he brushed his lips against her forehead and stroked her shoulder blades felt more intimate than the actual act of sex. It was electrifying.

She leaned over and kissed him gently, feeling the shape of his smile against her mouth.

"You're way too skilled at that, Admiral." His smile grew larger.

"It helps having you as a partner" he mumbled.

"So where do we go from here?" It wasn't really a question more than a statement. She knew this wouldn't be the last time she ended up in his bed, wrapped in his arms. Not that she minded.

"Well…let's just say I've decided New Caprica won't be so terrible after all." The grin plastering his face couldn't be stopped, and neither could his hands slipping down her spine.

"Indeed Admiral, but I think I need to hear that again just to be sure."

"Well Madam President, why don't I just show you."

And with that, so began the Admiral and President finally agreeing on domestic policy: harmony is best.


End file.
